


Returning Nightmares

by beepish



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Sacrifice Arcadia Bay, Survivor Guilt, god help these two small gays, it gets really sad and really gay, pricefield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepish/pseuds/beepish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-bae-over-bay ending. Max and Chloe high-tail it out of what's left of Arcadia Bay as fast as they could, always moving forward, just to get to safety.</p><p>Safety is fleeting. Promises are fragile. Sacrifice is inevitable.</p><p>Moving forward is hard when you can't stop looking back.</p><p>(HIATUS - still in-progress)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. World at Large

**Author's Note:**

> First public fic on AO3! 
> 
> I felt a little ripped off by that ending, like fate (i.e. the developers) wanted you to let her die.
> 
> Well, fuck that. Their story won't stop there if I have anything to say about it. Here's my interpretation of what could've happened post-game.
> 
> I'm going to be editing little bits of this fic as I keep writing it. I changed the title after I wrote chapter 3 because the original was honestly a working title. I know more about where the story is going now than I did when I made it. So I think I'll stick with this one.
> 
> Song referenced in title: Crosses by José González

It was a quiet car ride. Chloe's music was playing, there was some idle chatter, but it was quiet. It didn't take too long for Arcadia Bay to disappear in the rearview mirror.

Or, well, what was left of it, at least.

Max's focus drifted to the sky more often than usual. It was cloudless, a bold shade of blue that reminded her of summertime. After how many times she experienced this past week, summer was a faroff dream. The more she tried to remember what it felt like, the more it slipped from her mind. 

"Take this next exit," Max said. "We should be there in a couple hours, I think." 

Chloe huffed, shifting in her seat and flicking her blinker up. "Good. I like roadtrips, Max, but we really missed my favorite part - planning the damn thing."

"Trust me, I wish we could've planned this more than you do. Who leaves their phone charger for the car at home?"

Chloe shrugged, merging into empty lanes all at once. "S'not my fault your phone's battery sucks and mine's got shitty service."

They fell into silence again. Max looked at Chloe's tired face, distant but fixed on the road. Summertime, she decided, was the wrong shade of blue for her anyways.

 

\--

 

Max visualized the map in her head, guiding Chloe down the twists and turns of the city's outskirts. They entered a little neighborhood off of a main street, took a few rights and a few lefts, and pulled into the driveway of a two-story home. There were Halloween decorations planted in the yard, fake spiderweb weaved into the hedges along the walkway.

The two girls sat still for a moment after killing the engine. They looked through the driver's side window at the lights on inside the house.

"You go first," Chloe said.

Max swallowed a nervous lump lodged in her throat. "After you."

"Oh, but I insist. This was the first thing we had to do before anything else, and it was your idea." 

Max rested her head on the seat and sighed. "It's not like we had anywhere else to go." Another beat of silence before they both unbuckled their seat belts and left the warmth of the car for the chilly dusk air.

She pulled her jacket closer to her as they made it for the front door up the walkway. It was elegant with frosted glass windows, preceded by a straw welcome mat. A windchime swayed in the breeze as Max knocked on the door.

She was about to knock again when she finally heard footsteps and the door swung open. A brunette woman in her mid 40's with a red nose and puffy eyes appeared, tapping at her eyes with a napkin. When she looked up, she blinked between the two girls. She dropped the cell phone she'd been holding, her jaw hanging open mid-greeting.

Max smiled and barely got out a, "Hey, Mom," before her voice cracked and the woman threw her arms around her.

Chloe looked away towards the city skyline resting against the sunset. The Space Needle loomed above the other buildings, watching over the reunion between the two embracing in front of her. She didn't want to think about mothers right now.

 

\--

 

The four of them sat in the living room, cups of chamomile tea placed into Max and Chloe's hands. The TV was on low, playing the news reel that hadn't stopped since this afternoon. They all stared at the screen, watching shots of a decimated Arcadia Bay flick by.

"We left before the media got there," Max said first. "We were by the lighthouse when it happened. It just… missed us completely. And when it was over, all we could do was run."

Her dad, looking to be in a similar state as her mom, shook his head. "You had every right to. We're just glad you two are safe."

"Has there…" Chloe cleared her throat. "Did they find any survivors?"

Max's parents exchanged looks. "Not yet," he said. "They're still looking though the rubble… There's a lot of ground to cover."

Her mother placed a warm hand over Chloe's, her eyes brimming with sympathy. "They've got to find at least one person alive. We'll let you know if we hear anything."

She gave a thin smile, feeling her own chest well with emotion. "Thanks, Vanessa."

The woman nodded and squeezed her hand before letting go. She had always felt like a second mother to Chloe, much like Joyce was to Max.

"Any news from your friends, Max?" Chloe asked.

Max checked her newly charged phone. She had sent texts out to any contact she had from Blackwell as soon as she could. That was half an hour ago. It'd been silent ever since. She shook her head. They couldn't really all be dead, could they?

"Why don't you two get some rest?" Vanessa said. "It's been a long day. We'll keep tabs on the news, okay?"

Chloe placed her now-cold tea on the coffeetable and stood up to stretch. "Man, it feels like today has lasted a whole week, huh, Max?"

"Yeah," she said, placing her cup next to Chloe's. "You could say that."

The two thanked them, hugged them both, took their phones, and climbed upstairs. On their way up, Max heard her mom say, "So, want to take first watch, hon?"

Her dad laughed. "I'll stand ever-vigilant."

 

\--

 

They made it to Max's bedroom and flicked the lights on. It looked like nothing had changed since she left it, if maybe a pinch neater. A bookshelf beside the queen-sized bed was lined with novels and books on contemporary photographers. Pictures were hung on the walls from various artists that inspired young, pre-Blackwell Max. It reminded her that she had only been at Blackwell for a month. So much for that dream.

"Nice place," Chloe said, inspecting the mementoes on the dresser. "Very pink. Very you."

"Pfft, shut up. The carpet was here before me." 

Chloe ruffled the baby pink curtains. "And they match they drapes out of coincidence?" 

"Like yours do?" Max scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

She earned a devious grin. "You wanna find out?" 

Max laughed and threw a teddy bear in her face. "C'mon, let's get some actual sleep. I'm super exhausted." 

"Dude, same." Chloe flopped onto the bed, wriggling out of her pants and wrapping herself in the comforter.

Max shed her t-shirt and jeans in favor of an older t-shirt and shorts. She plugged her phone into the wall beside her and slid into bed. "Blanket hog," she teased, tugging some of the comforter out from Chloe's grip.

"Mmmm, so cozy though! I might just need all of it to keep my icy cold heart warm."

"I'm sure you could spare some to keep my icy cold feet warm."

Max was reaching over to her nightstand to turn the lamp off when her phone vibrated for the first time. Her heart stopped as she stared at it for a second, wondering if it really just-- and then it vibrated again and she quickly scooped up the device.

She gasped audibly and clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from yelling.

"What is it? Who texted you?"

"It's Kate!" she exclaimed. "She's okay! The hospital was out of the way of the storm!"

"Whoa, really?" Chloe slung her arm over Max and read her screen.

 

**8:42 PM - Kate**

**Max! Are you okay? Where are you?**  

 

Max's fingers flew over the touch keyboard, wanting to respond as soon as she could.

 

**8:43 PM - Max**

**I'm fine, I'm with Chloe and we're safe. Are you okay?**

 

"I can't believe she's still alive," she said. The relief in her voice was palpable.

Chloe flopped back down onto the bed. "Well, yeah, after all the trouble you went to save her in the first place? She'd better stick around."

Max laughed and sank into a conversation with Kate. They talked about the storm, about how little there was left of their town. Max asked if she'd heard from anyone else and learned that Kate had had as much success as her. Her heart fell at that, but if Kate could survive, then there had to be others.

 

**9:14 PM - Max**

**Well, thanks for getting back to me, Kate. I'm going to sleep now. Thank you for giving me hope again.**

 

She turned off the lamp and felt her phone vibrate a final time.

 

**9:15 PM - Kate**

**I'm glad I could return the favor. I believe in miracles now more than ever. Goodnight, Max!**

 

She smiled at her phone, not realizing the tears were coming before she was sniffling them back. She set her phone down on the nightstand and turned over to face a dozing Chloe. She studied her face through blurry vision. Kate was still alive. Chloe was still alive. She was still alive.

Chloe opened a sleepy eye. "Come on, you're gonna make me start crying with that face."

Max wiped her eyes with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm glad that, maybe, I didn't make a huge mistake when…"

"Shhh," Chloe hushed, reaching out to bring her closer. "That's something we'll deal with later. I... can't right now. It's time for some shut-eye. We can talk about it more in the morning. Okay?"

Max sniffled hard, buried herself into Chloe's chest. She held onto her friend, still afraid she might slip away if she let go. "Okay. I'm glad you're here."

Chloe ran a calming hand through Max's hair. "Me too, Max."

 

\--

 

The sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand snapped Max out of a dreamless sleep. She flung her arm over, searching for the phone in the dark until it found her.

She sat up, blinking some of the sleep from her eye. Chloe was passed out, facing away from her. What time was it? Who was texting her before the sun rose? Was it Kate? She squinted at the light of the screen until the notification came into focus.

She blinked her eyes wide open to make sure she'd read that right. She inhaled and the breath stopped in her throat.

 

**1:04 AM - Victoria**

**hoyl shit. ur fukn alive????**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking that the reality of the situation hasn't hit Max or Chloe yet. They're almost pretending that it just didn't happen. I assume it's one big dissociative state after witnessing such a traumatic event.
> 
> Just a river in Egypt, right now. That'll change.
> 
> (Unlike me in Jefferson's claim that he'd already killed Nathan. Bullshit, Jeffershit.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm open to critique in the comments!
> 
>  
> 
> Song reference in title: The World At Large by Modest Mouse


	2. Empty Chairs

The text on the screen glared at her. How was this possible?

She pressed shaky fingers against the screen.

 

**1:06 AM - Max**

**Victoria? Is that you?**

 

The immediate response made her jump.

 

**1:06 AM - Victoria**

**no u dumbaz its nathan. im with victoria**

 

**1:07 AM - Max**

**But… I thought Jefferson killed you**

 

She remembered, in another timeline, the conversation in the Dark Room clearly. He said Nathan was already dead and buried.

She remembered how he said Nathan was the one that killed Rachel Amber. That he was the one that brought him all those girls. That he drugged both Kate and Chloe.

And she remembered how he pleaded his warning in the voicemail he left - his desperate, last-ditch effort to save her.

 

**1:08 AM - Victoria**

**how th FUK wuld u no that???**

 

Oh. Right. That all happened in the timeline where she and Chloe actually went to the Vortex Club party.

She was about to give some lame "I-heard-it-on-the-news" excuse when she got another text.

 

**1:10 AM - Dana**

**Max, what's happening?**

 

Dana? She's okay? How did-

 

**1:10 AM - Alyssa**

**Max, where is everyone?**

 

Was her phone lagging or something? She tried to respond to-

 

**1:11 AM - Warren**

**Super Max! How are you alive?**

 

Warren! He's-

 

**1:11 AM - Joyce Price**

**Max, Chloe is safe, right?**

 

How did-

 

**1:11 AM - Frank Bowers**

**Max, where is Pompidou?**

 

Max's phone started blowing up with responses from every single person she texted. She set it down on the bed and hugged her knees, watching the notifications pop up one after another. There was a ball of lead sitting in her stomach. They were all asking her questions she didn't know how to answer. _What happened to Arcadia Bay? How did the storm start? Why did you survive? Why is everyone dead, Max?_ She wondered how Chloe was still asleep through all the buzzing.

When it finally stopped for more than three seconds, she gingerly picked up her phone.

Her breathing escalated. This wasn't right. Something was very-

 

**1:12 AM - Mark Jefferson**

**I miss you, Max.**

 

That time, she did scream. "Chloe!" she yelled, shaking her friend. "Chloe, what's happening?"

She turned Chloe over to find a bullethole placed neatly between her eyes.

 

\--

 

When she woke up, she was covered in a cold sweat, shivering under the blanket. Her heart was racing. She took a deep breath and checked her phone. It was 3:43 AM. Nobody had texted her since Kate. Chloe wasn't beside her, though. Had she woken her up?

Max peeled off the covers and grabbed a bath towel from her closet. No point in trying to go back to sleep after that. She clicked her bedroom door closed as quietly as possible and rapped gently on the bathroom door down the hall.

She heard a sniff from the other side. "Chloe? Are you okay?"

A few seconds later, a red-eyed Chloe Price opened the door and let Max in. She sat down on the toilet lid, where she'd probably been sitting for a while. Max closed the door behind her.

"I couldn't fall asleep," Chloe said through sniffles. "There was too much in my head, so… I came here. I didn't wanna wake you up."

Max leaned on the bathroom counter beside her and threaded her fingers into her blue hair. "It's okay. I didn't sleep for very long anyways."

She nodded, wiping her eyes with toilet paper. The roll was nearly empty. Max ran her hand through Chloe's hair slowly. They were quiet until she pulled her hand away and tossed the towel onto her lap.

"Here," she said, hopping off the counter. "You can take a shower first. Hot water is therapeutic, right? I'll bring you a change of clothes."

Chloe closed her eyes and smiled. "Thanks, Max."

Soon after bringing her a too-large grey t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and underwear, Max could hear the shower start as she closed the door and headed back to her room. She laid down on the bed over the covers and stared at the ceiling. She still had those little glow-in-the-dark stars pasted everywhere, although they had long since dimmed overnight. Her eyes felt heavy again.

She half-dreamed of open skies in an grassy field. She dreamed of standing in the very center. White butterflies filled the air, while one vibrant blue one drifted in front of her. She followed its path, turning her around to face a crowd of people dressed in black, gathered around a coffin being lowered into a grave. The coffin was still open. She heard two pairs of hooves stepping in the grass behind her.

When she drifted back to consciousness, she couldn't recall exactly whose face she had seen inside. That didn't stop a sickly feeling from nesting in her stomach.

"Max?" she heard from the door.

She briefly lifted a hand in greeting. "My turn?" She began to drag herself off the bed when Chloe sat beside her, worry etched on her face. Max stopped. "What's wrong?"

"You mean, besides the obvious?" she answered with a half-assed snort. "I wanted to ask you if… Shit, uh, I don't even know how to put this."

"Chloe, you can always talk to me. My ears can take it."

She sighed and stared at the floor. "Have you… used your powers at all since..."

Max shook her head. She hadn't really needed to use them all day. The thought of it only made her stomach sicker.

"You're not going to use your powers anymore, are you?"

"No," Max said quickly - maybe too quickly. "Not unless our lives are in danger, I mean."

Chloe nodded, tugging at the sleeves of the t-shirt hanging on her skinny form. "Let's not let it come to that, then."

 

\--

 

After getting out of the shower, she found a snoring Chloe in her bed and decided against crawling up beside her. She didn't want to wake her up. Max slipped downstairs instead. Her mother was awake, pulling a ball of yarn from her knitting bag. She smiled and invited Max to sit next to her on the couch.

The news had paused its story about the storm to talk about normal news, like normal weather and normal, heroic people doing normal, heroic things.

Just your everyday heroes.

She leaned against her mom while she worked on a crochet project. It looked like it was gonna be a scarf, but Max honestly didn't know the first thing about knitting. She didn't mind, as long as it was quiet and she wasn't being interrogated.

She managed to doze off like this, floating in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours. At some point, she felt a blanket draped over her and saw her mom sit on the adjacent loveseat, knit-and-pearling away. She vaguely heard a pair of footsteps descend the stairs, then a soft "shh, she needs rest."

She drifted off again until she felt someone shake her shoulder. Morning light pressed against her eyelids. "Maxine," her mom said. "Wake up, sweetheart. There's news."

She cracked open her eyes to her mother's somber face. She groaned, sighed, and pushed herself into a sitting position, wiping her eyes. News? What news?

She heard two sets of feet come down the stairs. She looked up in her more lucid state to see her dad followed by an equally sleepy Chloe. She caught her eye and grinned. "Morning, sunshine."

Max returned the smile. Her blue hair was sticking out here and there. It was charming in the nostalgic kind of way. Chloe had always had the worst bedhead whenever she slept over.

Her mom was watching the TV, her hands clasped together in front of her. She reached for the remote to turn the volume up.

Chloe focused on the screen as she took her place beside Max. A pair of blonde and brunette news anchors wore vaguely despondent frowns as they listened to the field reporter on the right half of the screen. The reporter was standing in front of a team cleaning up the debris of a wrecked Two Whales Diner.

The headlines are what caught their attention.

 

**OREGON TOWN HIT WITHOUT WARNING: ESTIMATED 220+ DEAD**

**24 INJURED, 95 FOUND DEAD, 200+ MISSING**

**DEATH TOLL RISING IN FREAK HURRICANE AFTERMATH**

 

\--

 

"One thing you need to think about, Jan," the reporter said, "is that the town of Arcadia Bay sits way up in the northwest United States. They aren't equipped to deal with such turbulent weather, much less an F5 tornado that formed so rapidly."

"Todd, I have never in my life heard of a state as far from tropical weather as Oregon experiencing this kind of storm. Can you give any kind of explanation as to how this could've happened?"

"Well, experts have given several theories, but none seem to completely answer that question. We only know that what happened, however it happened, is a tragedy."

Two hundred and twenty.

At least two hundred and twenty people could be dead because of what Max did. Ninety-five people actually _were_ dead because of what she did.

Of what she didn't do.

The report continued, but she tuned the rest of it out, staring blankly forward. The numbers were burned into her eyes.

Two hundred and twenty.

The feeling of Chloe squeezing her hand brought her back as quickly as she'd left. Her face was hard. She wasn't looking at Max.

"Max, can we go somewhere?"

Her parents looked at them with concern. Chloe had already risen and started up the stairs. Max took a deep breath, tried to give her parents a reassuring look, and followed Chloe. They dressed wordlessly, grabbed their phones, and left the house. Max told her parents they'd be back soon.

Chloe started the truck and took off down the street. Max peered up at her. Any words she thought to say caught in her throat when she saw the seemingly permanent frown on her face.

After half an hour of mindless wandering through the streets of outer Seattle, they stopped on a street off the main road littered with shops and restaurants. Chloe slid into a parking space and practically jumped out of the car.

"Chloe, wait!" Max said, fumbling with her seatbelt. She fed the meter a couple quarters and followed her friend. Max had to half-jog to keep up with her. "Chloe, are you okay? Will you slow down please? Not all of us are gifted with giraffe legs."

"I want some clothes, Max, is that alright? I don't have _anything_ anymore, so I might as well get some new shit. Is that fucking alright with you?" Chloe kept a cool exterior, but her words felt like a red-hot slap to Max's face.

"Yes, okay, you can get new clothes. I can help you if you just slow down." She was starting to run out of breath. Unexpectedly, Chloe obliged. She slowed to a stop and turned, crossing her arms. "There's a thrift shop up the street with some stuff you might like. Let's go there, okay?"

Chloe gave a curt nod and started up the sidewalk again at a more Max-friendly pace.

The thrift shop was a small, cramped space filled with rows and rows of clothing. A few people dotted the aisles, rummaging their way through the store. The employees were sorting clothes onto marked hangers determining their price. Max pulled Chloe through each row, looking for things that resembled her style.

They ended up finding a few tanktops, some t-shirts - "I can modify them, no sweat," Chloe said, - and a pair of jeans that seemed to fit well enough. Max's attention was stolen by a small basket of polaroid film on a shelf in the back. She knelt down and rummaged through the selection, looking for film that fit her camera.

"Are you finding everything alright?" a girl said beside her.

"Yeah, just browsing," she said, looking up to smile at her. Her eyes were caught by a blonde girl in red flannel and torn jeans, a blue feather earring dangling from her left ear. Max stared into a face that she had only seen on missing person posters. Her smile faltered.

"You know you couldn't save everyone, Max," she said. "You couldn't even save me. Do you really think you could save Chloe?"

"But… I did save her." She only received a wider smile, an I-know-something-you-don't-know smile.

"Max!" she heard Chloe shout. "You didn't drown in all this hipster trash, did you?"

Max whipped her head towards Chloe's voice. "I'm over here!"

A head of blue hair pop around the corner of a long rack of pants. "Come on! You ready to go yet?"

When she turned around, she was alone.

"Yeah. Let's go."

 

\--

 

Max couldn't get that face out of her head. She and Chloe had stopped at a department store down the road to pick up some essential items - toiletries, undergarments, etc. - and she hadn't felt better. She just had a conversation with a dead girl. She couldn't get over something like that.

"Hey, um," Chloe said, cutting into the silence. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I just needed something to distract me from all the shitty things going on, and I… got a little testy. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"I know," she replied, shaking away her thoughts. "Sorry for saying you have giraffe legs."

"Aw, I thought that was your way of saying I got nice legs!"

"You got legs that go on for days, Miss Price," Max teased. "Happy?"

"Hungry, mostly." For the first time in a couple of days, Chloe actually laughed.

They stopped at a café on the way back to Max's house. It was small, brick building, fronted with large windows that let every bit of sunlight in. They ordered a couple of paninis and smoothies and picked out a table for two near the window.

Max texted Kate to check in and see how she was doing. She was supposed to be discharged from the hospital in a few days, but she requested to be released early to be with her family. They talked about her dad and how worried he was for Kate.

 

**2:45 PM - Kate**

**You still haven't heard from anyone else yet, have you?**

 

**2:47 PM - Max**

**No, Chloe hasn't either. We just heard the death toll today. We're worried.**

 

She honestly couldn't tell who was the more worried of the two. Chloe didn't seem like she could even register the fact that all those people were gone. Max couldn't blame her; she didn't really want to think about it either. But Max isn't the one who might've just lost her only real parent and everything she owned. Still, whenever she thought about the alternative, she didn't regret her decision. It might not have been her decision to make, but she was the only one who could make it anyways.

Chloe went to retrieve their food when their order was called. "Man, I've been checking every social media page I have, and it's a little weird to see no updates from anyone at all."

"Weird is one word for it," Max said, sipping on a strawberry-banana smoothie. "How are you paying for all this stuff?"

"Dude, I still got hella cash left over after I gave Frank what I owed him."

Ah, right, the handicapped fund. "Not like Blackwell is gonna need it now anyways."

Chloe shrugged and tore into her panini. They both got the same tomato and mozzarella with pesto. Max sometimes came here with her Seattle friends over the years. She briefly wondered how they were doing.

Her phone vibrated. She checked to see what Kate's reply was, but was greeted by a different name instead.

 

**2:51 PM - Warren**

**Max. Holy shit. You made it?**

 

A sharp gasp escaped her. She almost didn't believe it was real, but she knew she was awake this time.

Chloe looked up from her phone. "Someone else survived?"

"It's Warren," Max breathed, a familiar wave of relief washing over her.

Chloe's face fell, but resumed a hopeful smile. "That's better than nothing, I guess."

 

**2:53 PM - Max**

**Yeah! Chloe and I are safe in Seattle. Are you okay? What happened?**

 

It was another victory. Another friend who lived. It was dim in the face of everyone else who didn't make it, but it was a victory nonetheless.

She remembered meeting Warren in the alternate timeline. She told him about her powers, and he believed her without a second thought. He was the one who suggested that it was her powers that caused the storm. He had total faith that she would do the right thing when the time came. What would he think if he knew what she did in this timeline?

There would be no point in telling him she had powers anymore. She wouldn't use them, much less prove them. She didn't even know if she still had them. They could have worn off once the storm passed, right? Either way, she wasn't inclined to check.

"I have to pee, I'll be back." Chloe rose and headed towards the restrooms.

"Don't fall in," Max called after her, seeing a satisfying roll of the eyes on her friend's face. Her phone buzzed again.

 

**2:55 PM - Warren**

**I'm in the ER. I just got my phone back. They used it to call my parents while I was out, so they should be here soon. Got a couple crippled limbs, but nothing that can't heal.**

 

 **I don't really know what happened, though. I remember** **running out the back door of the Two Whales into the storm and hitting my head on something. Blacked out.** **Don't know how I survived. I might just be lucky.**

 

**2:57 PM - Max**

**Was anyone else in there with you?**

 

**2:58 PM - Warren**

**Yeah, a few. I don't know where they are now. I think Chloe's mom was in there**

 

Max knew that Joyce was in there. She knew that Frank was in there, too.

 

**3:00 PM - Max**

**I figured she might've been. You have no idea how glad I am to hear from you, though**

 

**3:01 PM - Warren**

**Same here. Stay safe, Super Max!**

 

She fired a text off to Kate, telling of Warren's survival. Her gaze wandered out the window. If Warren survived, then there was a chance that Joyce had too. Maybe even Frank.

Across the street, she watched a bus pull away from the bus stop. As it left, she saw one person sitting on the bench. A light-haired boy with a scowl on his face and a red varsity jacket on his shoulders. He stared at her and pulled a gun from his jacket pocket, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her mind screamed at her to move, to yell, to do _something_ , but she just watched in mute terror as he brought the gun to his temple and gave a wicked grin.

"Earth to Max? Did you hear me?"

Max faced a thoroughly confused Chloe, eyes wide. "Huh?"

"I said, are you taking that to go? You barely touched it."

She looked out the window. There was no trace of the boy.

Chloe touched her arm. "Dude, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

"I'm okay," she lied, although she didn't know quite why. "I'm not very hungry right now."

The whole ride home, Max couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get weird for Max. When are things not weird for Max?  
> Big thanks to my friend [Nathan](http://doyouhearthunder.tumblr.com) for feedback!  
> Lemme know how I'm doing. I'm much more comfortable with shorter things. Writing something longer is a lot for me. I'll do my best to stick with it though, so let me know what you like or think needs work!
> 
> Song referenced in title: Ghosts by Laura Marling
> 
> (edit 2/10 - changed death toll for accuracy)


	3. Not Taking Prisoners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, an update! This is a chapter I've been wanting to write since I thought of this fic, so here you go.
> 
> ((Warning for emetophobia further in after three bolded lines; sleep paralysis near the end.))

They came bustling into the Caulfield estate, armed with two bags of cheap clothes, two half-gone smoothies, and one uneaten panini. They returned in higher spirits than they left, although Max's head lingered on faces she shouldn't have seen, but did.

She stuck her panini in the fridge, borrowed two pairs of kitchen scissors, and hopped up the stairs with Chloe. Maybe she just needed a distraction. She and Chloe were safe here.

Minutes later, they were sitting on her bedroom floor, playing CD's that Max had forgotten she'd owned. Some Radiohead album hummed out of her modest sound system as they examined the t-shirts laid out in small piles surrounding them.

"So, basically just cut the sleeves off and then they'll be wearable?" Max asked.

"You got it, Maximum Ride," Chloe said. She already began working on a white t-shirt with "SIN" printed in black on the front.

Max picked up a grey shirt with black bat wings running along the collarbones. Thrift stores always had the weirdest stuff, but luckily some things seemed to fit Chloe's aesthetic.

"I wonder what the punk scene is like in Seattle." Chloe was bobbing her head along to the music, focused on trimming as neat as possible.

"If I still had my guitar, we could totally start an indie group."

Chloe grinned. "That'd be hella rad. We should check out some shows while we're here sometime. I'll let you wear some of my new loot so you don't look like a poser or whatever."

Max managed to cut off the right sleeve without too many jagged edges. But maybe the edgy look was in now? She started on the left sleeve cautiously. "Sure, let's shave half my head and bleach the rest to white, too."

Chloe sat back, scrutinizing Max. "Please don't tell me you're joking, because you'd look so fucking cool."

"I'm joking."

"Goddammit."

Max laughed and set the finished cutoff tanktop behind her. She picked up a maroon shirt with some white graphic on it and went to work. "I like my hair the way it is, thank you."

"I mean, I do too, but think about it! You'd be the cutest indie-punk girl in the venue!" Chloe pretended to swoon dramatically, dropping her scissors to fan herself.

That made Max giggle. "And what would that make you?"

Chloe fired finger-guns at her, clicked her tongue, and winked. "The _hottest_ one, of course!"

Max faked-swooned and they fell into fits of laughter. Her face was red for a variety of reasons, but mostly because she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.

They spent the afternoon cutting up t-shirts and sifting through music. Chloe stood on the bed and modeled some of her new (gently used) shirts while Max snapped photos with her phone.

The album that had been playing rang out the notes of the final track. "Any requests?" Chloe said, hopping off and crouching by the CD case next to the bookshelf.

Max stood up, pocketing her phone. "Surprise me. I'm gonna use the bathroom."

"Don't forget to write!" Chloe called out as she left the room. Max rolled her eyes and headed down the hallway.

Five minutes later, she re-entered the bedroom to find Chloe still crouched by the CD case. There was no music playing.

"Having a hard time finding something that's not total indie trash?" Max said. Chloe jumped, twisting around and looking at Max in alarm. She held her hands behind her. "Uh. Was there something super embarrassing in there or-"

"No, I just…" Chloe stammered, avoiding eye contact. She stood up, now obviously hiding something behind her back. Her brows knit together and she chewed on her bottom lip. She met Max's patient, questioning look before huffing and revealing the book in her hands. "What do you want to do with this?"

"Huh?" Max inspected the softcover book. It was white with a minimalistic image of a camera tripod. In black, sans-serif font, the title read _Take the Shot: Tips and Tricks for Beginning Photographers_. "What do you mean? It's one of my old photo books."

Chloe shook her head. "Check the author, Max."

There, in a small serif font: _by Mark Jefferson_.

Her stomach knotted. "Oh."

"After what that asshole did to you and all those other girls," Chloe said, her voice raising. "I doubt you'd want a shitty book by a shitty person sitting in your room. Like. Fuck, dude."

She was right. Max couldn't tear her eyes from the cover, her mouth going dry. She had first picked this book up _because_ it had that name on it, because at one point, it inspired a flush of admiration in her cheeks. The color that would have been blooming on her face a month ago - a week ago, even - was replaced by a tightened throat and racing thoughts. Her heartbeat skipped from the spiders up her spine instead of butterflies in her belly.

She didn't want to admit that she once thought he was anything more than a terrifying sack of shit.

Max looked at Chloe. "You have a lighter, right?"

 

\--

 

They stood on the stone patio in the backyard, watching smoke and ashes rise into the air. Intense heat pressed against Max's nose and cheeks. Everything reeked of lighter fluid. Normally, she would never condone book-burning, but for this, she could make an exception.

Max's hands were clammy, clasped together at waist-height. She absentmindedly picked at her cuticles, watching fire devour paper. When the flames lapped at the corners of the cover, she took her camera out of her bag and captured the moment. She studied the result as the polaroid faded into life. It wasn't the best shot, but the image was enough to satisfy her. She stowed her camera and photo away, turning her attention back to the burning book.

If you told her a week ago that she'd be holding a funeral pyre for her dead dreams about a former role model, she wouldn't have believed you.

"Feeling better?" Chloe asked.

Max nodded. "Good riddance."

"Rest in pieces, Jeffershit." Chloe wrapped an arm around Max as the fire began to die. Soon, there was nothing left but a trace of ashes. Clouds gathered overhead, suggesting that they wouldn't remain for very long.

"I told him to eat shit and die," Max said. "Back in the other timeline. He asked me a question, and that was my answer."

She received a proud smile and a tighter squeeze around her shoulders. "You were brave, Max. I don't know what I would've done in your place."

Max leaned into the touch, resting her head on her shoulder. Her arms snaked around Chloe’s waist as she buried her head in her jacket. The distinct scent of Chloe’s room instantly washed over her. She felt Chloe surround her completely, felt a roaming hand on her back, felt relieved and warm and _safe_. Her eyes began to sting with emotion.

“I’m glad you're here,” she said. Her breath came out shakily. Chloe smiled, pressing her forehead against Max’s crown, slowly dragging her nails up and down her back.

“There’s nowhere I'd rather be, Max.”

If she had to, she would sit through a hundred more sessions in the Dark Room to keep Chloe safe.

 

\--

 

Three Caulfields and one Price sat at the kitchen table adjacent from the living room. Within view of the television spilling out news, they devoured the two large pizzas that Max’s dad picked up. There was just over half a pizza left as Max picked at the crust of her second slice.

“Thanks for the pizza, Ryan,” Chloe said, finishing off slice number three.

“It’s all good,” he replied. “We really are glad to see you again, Chloe. You and Max were inseparable when you were little.”

“Seems like some things never change, huh?” Vanessa smiled at the two of them. “Five years is a long time to go without seeing your best friend. How did you two meet up again?”

Max chewed on her lip and looked at Chloe. “We just kinda… ran into each other.”

Chloe laughed. “Well, I actually almost ran over some dude getting up in her business in the parking lot. I had no idea she was even back in town until then.”

It was quiet for a moment, save for an interview playing in the background on the television. Vanessa raised her eyebrows at Max. “You didn't tell Chloe you were back in Arcadia Bay after five years?”

Max shrunk in her seat. She fidgeted, avoiding all eye contact. “I… may have been a little terrible at keeping in touch after we moved here.”

“A little?” Ryan said. Both of her parents were giving her confused looks.

“‘A little’ means that she didn’t really stay in touch at all.” Chloe took a sip of her Sprite. “Moving to Seattle might as well have been moving to Mars.”

“Maxine!” Her mom looked appalled. “Please tell me you sent her a single letter or called her once in the five whole years you lived here!”

Sweat was gathering at the nape of her neck. “I wanted to! But the longer I put it off, the more hesitant I got, and then I just… never… did?” It was a weak argument, only weakened further by the lack of conviction in her voice.

Vanessa shook her head and pursed her lips. “Honestly, Max, you two were attached at the hip since birth. How could you put her on hold for so long?”

Her dad _tsk tsk_ ’d her. “We would ground you if we could, young lady.”

“Oh, we had many discussions about the matter,” Chloe said, grinning. “She’s more than made up for lost time, and then some, believe me. Water under bridges and stuff.”

Max, thoroughly embarrassed in front of every person around her, decided that nibbling on mediocre pizza crust was much more enjoyable than meeting any of the eyes trained on her. “Yeah. Bygones being bygones or something like that.”

“What kid was even hassling you in the parking lot?” her dad worried. “Did he have a problem with you?”

Chloe crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “It was a classmate of hers. A Prescott.”

A flash of understanding and then alarm flashed across Ryan’s face. “Did he hurt you? Why was he bothering you?”

“I remember the Prescotts,” Vanessa murmured. “Were they still as terrible as I remember them being?”

Max nodded. “He thought I saw him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. I had no idea what he was talking about.”

An interrogation like this was bound to happen before too long, she figured. Now that they all had a chance to sit down and talk, truths and half-truths trickled out with great care. Max assumed that Chloe would want to hide the gruesome details of drug money and near-death experiences as much as possible. So the two of them relayed an abridged version of everything that happened in their week together at Arcadia Bay. Chloe was sullen remembering Rachel and their grand search for her - minus the time-travelly bits. Max included the parts about saving Kate and later finding the Dark Room with a knot in her throat. When it came to the End of the World party, Chloe explained how they went to her stepdad to turn in Jefferson and holed up in her house, since all that time was lost to Max when she returned to the current timeline.

A minute passed after wrapping up their story when the television mentioned Arcadia Bay, demanding all attention. Ryan offered to wrap up the rest of the pizza while the rest migrated to the living room to listen. Vanessa turned the volume up and took her seat on the loveseat while Max and Chloe sat together on the couch.

"We've been receiving updates on the aftermath of the Arcadia Bay Storm," the blond news-anchor started. "Our on-field reporter, Todd Hanson, is live at the scene to tell us more. Todd?"

The same reporter as last time gave a smile and a nod after a beat. "Thanks, Jan. Clean-up has been going steady, there has been an overwhelming response from nearby communities, who we are absolutely grateful for. The devastation here is absolutely tragic, and officials have given more details on just how destructive this storm was." Max wondered if he had rested since that morning.

As they went on, the headlines slid by on the screen, capturing her focus.

 

**ARCADIA BAY STORM: DEADLIEST IN OREGON HISTORY**

**DEATH TOLL UPDATED: ESTIMATED 160+ DEAD**

**78 INJURED, 110 FOUND DEAD, 131+ MISSING**

 

That was a lot of progress in one day. By Monday, the numbers would be finalized.

They could only keep growing from here.

"Excuse me," Max nearly whispered, standing up and making her way up the stairs deliberately. Her bare feet padded on hardwood flooring as she reached the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Her stomach immediately contracted as her dinner shot back up her throat.

She held her own hair back, knees on the cold tiles, shivering as she wiped her mouth with toilet paper and flushed. Her breaths came out shallow and she felt decidedly too light-headed to stand. The burning in her esophagus and the acrid vaguely-pizza-flavored aftertaste was persuasive enough to pull her on her feet to rinse her mouth out with water. After swishing some Listerine for good measure, she took a breath and opened the bathroom door.

Chloe was propped up on the hallway wall outside. She looked at Max as she appeared, a worried frown carved into her face. Max met her eyes once before looking away.

"You doing okay?" Chloe asked.

She expected the truth. She was seeing through all the _I'm-fine_ bullshit that Max had tried giving her, if only to give her space. Max shook her head. "I think I just need a good night's sleep."

The frown didn't leave, but it didn't deepen, either. She nodded, reluctantly accepting the answer.

Max believed herself just as much as Chloe didn't. But she appreciated her not pushing the issue.

 

\--

 

They laid together in bed, phones plugged into the outlets on either side of them. They had already said goodnight to Ryan and Vanessa and changed into comfy clothes. Max felt exhausted, but her eyelids stayed open. She scrolled through apps on her phone, avoiding the ones heavy with social media. It's not like she'd find much activity there anymore, aside from people she knew in Seattle.

Chloe seemed just as restless as her, turning over and sighing quietly every so often. The only light shining through the cracks of her bedroom door was enough to make out the shape of her tense shoulders. Maybe it was because she was tired, or maybe because she couldn't ignore the feeling of dread embedded in her ribcage, but Max reached a hand out, bringing it to rest on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Chloe seemed to relax at her touch. She turned over to face Max with another frustrated huff. "This sucks."

"I know," Max said, hand falling to the sheets between them. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Like you haven't already done so much for me?" Chloe gave a wry smile. "Max, I don't think I can ask you to do anything you haven't already done."

When she placed her hand on Max's, she sighed again, eyes fluttering closed. It was a familiar wash of comfort on Max's skin, those cold fingertips falling into place between her own. She turned her hand to grasp Chloe’s, side by side.

Chloe was looking at her now. “I just want to know when something’s wrong, okay?” she said. Max's gaze fell on her, then wandered away again. “I know you’re not alright. I want to help you, but I can’t if you won’t tell me anything.”

It was Max’s turn to sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I will soon, I just… need to figure out what exactly _is_ wrong.”

If she was being honest, she had no idea why she was seeing visions of people long-gone. It reminded her of the nightmare she had before waking up at the lighthouse with Chloe. Did her current visions mean anything? Was it related to her powers, or was it just her mind turning against her? She knew that they terrified her. She knew it would worry Chloe if she told her about them.

She wished she knew how to make them stop.

A hand brushed her hair away from her face and pulled her forward. She scooted herself to Chloe, one elbow hooking over her waist while Chloe’s arm slid under her neck. Their legs intertwined beneath the blankets, tangling the sheets and bringing a sense of closeness that was new, but not unwelcome.

She looked up and almost brushed noses with Chloe. Their lungs moved rhythmically between them. They both relaxed, absorbing each other’s body heat, sinking into the physical contact.

“Take your time, Max,” Chloe murmured, threading her fingers through mousy brown hair. “I’m here for you.”

An odd fluttering spread throughout Max’s stomach. Her throat tightened and she curled up, pressing herself under Chloe’s chin, needing to be closer. Her heart felt heavy and weightless at the same time. “Thank you,” was all she managed to get out before her breath skipped and her eyes burned again.

She focused on the feeling of Chloe’s hands in her hair and scratching up her back. She counted her breaths, timing it to Chloe’s steady rhythm. She kept timing them - _inhale_ , one, two, _exhale_ , one, two, three, _inhale_ \- and didn’t even realize when she fell asleep, enveloped in the only person who could understand her right now.

 

\--

 

Consciousness seeped into Max while her eyes were still closed. Cold air wisped over her face and arms. Why had she felt so warm before? She had fallen asleep on her side, but flipped onto her back sometime between then and waking.

As she came to, slowly opening her eyes, she realized she was being watched.

There was someone in the room, silhouetted by the light filtering through the doorframe, facing her.

They held something up to their face. She heard soft clicks of a camera going off.

She couldn’t move a muscle in her body.

The stranger walked towards her, unnaturally steady, gliding more than walking. The clicks grew louder. She couldn’t make out their face or clothes, but she could see the camera clearly. It looked awfully familiar.

She tried opening her mouth, tried turning away, tried raising an arm. Nothing happened. She couldn’t make a sound. She began hyperventilating through her nose, her heart struggling to beat fast enough.

The person came to stand right over her, camera lens in her face. The clicking stopped as they lowered the camera and brought a latex-gloved hand to her face. A finger traced down her cheek to her jawline and she could _feel_ it, it was _there_ , someone was _there_ and _touching her_ and-

“You were so perfect,” they said, in a voice she never wanted to hear again. Their mouth curled into a smile. The hand rested on her cheek tenderly. “Come back to me, Max. I want you back.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t move _she couldn’t move at all and her instincts were screaming at her to escape, to go back, to raise her hand and rewind rewind REWIND--_

She squeezed her eyes shut as the clicking resumed. The gentle pressure on her cheek was still there. The voice kept speaking softly. She heard a whimper. Did she make that noise?

“Oh, Max,” the voice said. The touch on her face ghosted down her neck, traveled along her clavicle. “You’re innocence incarnate, aren’t you?”

She opened her eyes and saw Mark Jefferson leaning over her, holding a syringe instead of a camera.

She closed her eyes again and tried to scream. There was a high-pitched whine, a sharp pinch on the side of her neck. She felt like she was choking.

“Max?”

Her breath stopped as a firm hand grabbed her limp one by her side. She opened her eyes. No one was beside her bed.

Then, her mouth opened and she gulped in air as sobs crashed through her. She gasped, shallow and quick, as her free hand started rubbing at her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, because she could swear that something was still there, touching her, she could feel it, it was-

“Max! It’s me!”

Another hand captured her frantic one, stilling her. She looked to the other side of the bed and saw a wide-eyed Chloe staring at her. She held her eyes for second, bewildered, remembering where she was, before crumbling to pieces and crying harder than she ever had these past few days.

She clung to Chloe as she sobbed and sobbed. No coherent thoughts formed in her mind; there were only the wretched knots in her stomach, the imprints of touches that never really occurred. She held on for dear life, for memories that weren’t real, for ghosts that shouldn’t be haunting her. She let up a little when she felt her fingernails digging into Chloe’s skin.

After a while - half an hour? An hour? She couldn’t tell, honestly - her heavy sobs turned into trembled breathing and snotty sniffles. Chloe was sitting silent against the headboard, rubbing her back. Tissues were given to her every so often, which she accepted quietly, but gratefully.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after finding her voice. Her legs were working again, tucked up as she laid on her side.

“You don’t need to apologize. You also don’t need to handle this alone.”

She knew Chloe was right. She knew she shouldn’t keep this inside, whatever it was. Why was she so afraid of telling her best friend what was wrong?

She remembered why, but the truth rolled off her tongue anyways.

Chloe listened to it all. The nightmares from the night before, the visions of Rachel Amber and Nathan, the most recent nightmare - was it possible to have one when you were awake? - that still had her skin crawling. She didn’t interrupt her, just listened.

When she was done, Chloe slid back under the covers and held Max in the same position they fell asleep in. She sucked in a breath, and said, “That’s fucked, dude.”

Max nodded once, holding herself closer to Chloe, more for protection than nearness now. “I know.”

“Is it because of your powers?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Max.”

“It’s worth it.” She wasn’t lying, this time.

Chloe fell silent, holding Max a little tighter.

The faint drumming of rain on the window was the last thing Max remembered before she fell into a thin, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for everything Max is going through and will be going through in the future.  
> I want to, but I won't.
> 
> I love hearing what you have to say! Leave a comment and tell me what you like or what you'd like to see improve!
> 
> Song referenced in chapter title: Ode to Sleep by Twenty One Pilots


End file.
